


glass tower

by Yuisaki



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Character Analysis, M/M, a look into killua's thoughts during the greed island arc and the chimera ant arc, just a lot of angst, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3090404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuisaki/pseuds/Yuisaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killua gets stronger until he shines like that jewel of polished potential Bisky wants him to be. He has to be strong, so he is able to fight for the right to stand by Gon’s side and battle the war with humans and monsters and things that are both. Killua gets strong to support—to protect—the glass tower that reaches for the heavens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	glass tower

**Author's Note:**

> this is also up on my tumblr account (yuisaki-drabbles) but since i already posted a story here, i figured i might as well post the rest of my fics here. enjoy, guys

**1.**

Killua, once again, feels that dark shadow creeping up on him. He doesn’t like the way it resounds within him like something familiar, almost nostalgic. It whispers in his mind about belonging only to the darkness, how he will never be able to escape, telling him he will never change for as long as he carries the name “Zoldyck”.

Of course Killua thinks over and over again that all he has to do is change; whether that change applies to his own mind, name, or every single dream and tear and drop of blood he has, he’ll do it. He’s willing—so very willing, so wanting of change that he  _strains_ against that unseen barrier.

But Killua knows from the scars carved into him that change is not so simply acquired.

The barrier, at least for now, cannot be broken.

Yet Killua also thinks—dreams, whispers,  _knows—_ that the one boy constantly by his side is capable of change.

And at other moments, Killua thinks that Gon is  _too_  capable of change.

**2.**

Killua realizes soon enough about Gon and his ability to mold himself into everything there is. With every shine in amber eyes and crack in voice and  _"it has to be Killua!",_  Gon constantly melts himself with all the fire he has; Gon remakes himself new like glass.

But there is a time when the glass remains the same— _unchanging,_  and Killua knows this as well. Only at these moments, he knows the glass is fragile. Breakable.  _Delicate._  When Killua holds this unchanging Gon in his hands, he takes care not to let him fall, break, shatter. He’ll even land on swords straight on his back and have the glass safe, if that’s what it takes to protect this fragile type of Gon.

_(“I’ll distract him. I’ll act as a decoy.”)_

Killua keeps this glass safe, no matter what the cost.

**3.**

The only times Killua lets go is when the glass is too hot to hold and at these times, he’ll let Gon mold himself into whatever shape he wants. At that point, the glass is flexible, bending, invincible.  _(Unreachable.)_

But there has been only one other time when he passed off the glass to someone else, trusted someone he thought to have enough power to protect fragile-glass Gon and not let him shatter.

His name was Kite, and this is Killua’s first mistake.

**4.**

The second is when Kite warns them about the dangers, tells them of the hells that lies ahead, going so far as to giving Killua the chance to take clear-glass-Gon and run away. Kite practically shoves the chance in Killua’s face, but Killua never takes it. He should have, but he didn’t. This is his second mistake.

Yet the thing about clear-glass-Gon is that Gon, at those times of deliberation, never feels even a second of hesitation. He doesn’t wonder about the ‘what-if’s, doesn’t think about the painstaking “if this happens” that Killua spends all his time ruminating on. Clear-glass-Gon only sees everything around them and he thinks his path is clear, that it’s the only path to choose.

Killua will go along with these decisions because most of the time, Gon is right. Gon knows with frightening intuition that his decision is correct, but sometimes, he forgets the small details in face of the big idea. At this, the decisions—the  _mistakes_ —tend to have someone getting hurt. At, “Killua says we have to move on!”, everybody left behind in the exam was killed. At, “I want to fight Hisoka as soon as I can,” the price were the countless bruises that mottled his body black and blue.

At  _"it has to be Killua!"_ , it was Killua’s hands that were wrapped tight in white bandages— _can’t fall apart, can’t shatter, have to support glass-Gon._

It’s true that normally, it is Killua’s job to pull Gon back if he is running headfirst into a trap, but Gon forgets that sometimes, details are able to slip from Killua’s mind too. Killua wishes it didn’t, but either way Gon forgets that Killua is not perfect; he can’t make up for every single one of Gon’s mistakes simply because Killua makes them just as much as he does. Sometimes, Killua wishes Gon never said, “It’s my job to be stupid and reckless and your job to stop me,” because nowadays, that’s all Killua is able to think about—especially within the midst of a battle where even the slightest detail can cost a life.

_(Gon’s life.)_

Killua knows of Gon’s tendencies to get people hurt and of his own often-forgotten details, but they forge on recklessly anyway.  _We’ll deal with it when we get there,_ Killua thinks, charging in together with Gon and Kite.

This is his third mistake.

**5.**

The third mistake— _final,_ Killua thinks,  _not again_ —results in an explosion of panicked aura and desperate screaming. Killua doesn’t even think about knocking him out and faintly he thinks he might have used his full strength on his best friend, but it doesn’t matter because it’s better that Gon does not see the sight right here.

Killua knocks Gon unconscious because he knows Gon cannot handle the torn arm tossed on the grass and the gleaming cat eyes under the moonlight—not yet. Too brittle, too fragile.

"—decision, Killua," Kite says. A stream of blood falls to the wet grass.

Killua’s breaths quicken.  _What? What is he saying?_

It feels like he’s been dunked underwater. Sounds are muffled blurs to him now. Anything that doesn’t matter passes over his head, but he does hear—

"Run, Killua," Kite says, gray eyes not even wavering from Cat Eye’s feral gaze. "Run and get Gon out of here."

—the words he wants to hear.

Killua doesn’t hesitate this time; he takes the chance that Kite has shoved up in his face. Body covered with cold sweat, he manages a jerky nod and pulls the unconscious Gon over his shoulder and  _runs_. He doesn’t even spare a last glance at Kite before tearing out of the forest.

Killua leaves Kite behind to die.

The moon falls eventually after hours of trekking dizzy and unsteady through the forest and mountains. It’s midday when Killua stumbles lightheaded and unsteady through their room and sets Gon down— _gentle, gentle—_ on the bed.

When Gon wakes up, he is full of hope Kite has survived. Killua allows time for glass-Gon to remake himself again, so strong and big and heavy that at times Killua thinks he can’t support Gon.

Killua gets stronger to hold up the glass tower.

**6.**

Sometimes it feels like Killua is being replaced, fading back into shadows. Killua’s name no longer sounds like his own— _belongs_  like his own, this is not the change he desired—because another bigger, brighter name has replaced it. “Killua” turns into “Kite” within a matter of moments.

"We’ll save Kite," says Gon, amber eyes light and determined. "We’ll find Kite and take him back."

"Kite’s okay! I know he is!"

"Kite isn’t dead. He’s strong, he’s definitely survived."

Gon repeats the name countless times at strange moments and Killua understands. Gon wants to remember Kite, keep track of the fact that he is alive, cling onto the last remnants of his quickly-fading hope. Killua understands.

But throughout this period of “Kite, Kite, Kite,” Killua falls and trips on a nightmare of poison needles and violet aura and the dead, blank eyes of a brother who chases him even when they’re far apart. He struggles with protecting Gon—Killua fights himself  _(a million enemies)_ over and over in what feels like an endless battle to stand by his best friend’s side; Killua charges into a war to  _stay._

"Kite is fine," Gon will whisper in the quiet nights and exclaim in blue day. "Kite is alive!"

 _Yes, Kite is fine,_ Killua often finds himself thinking, staring into Gon’s back that looks smaller and smaller yet so big at the same time.  _Kite is fine, but please, don’t forget about me, Gon._

He runs faster to catch up with Gon’s fading, breathtaking light.

_Remember my name._

**7.**

Killua gets stronger until he shines like that jewel of polished potential that Bisky wants him to be. He  _has_ to be strong, so he has the right to stand by Gon’s side and fight in a war with humans and monsters and things that are both.

Even then, even  _then,_ Killua’s newfound strength cannot hold Gon’s weight when they encounter cat eyes under the moonlight again—yet this time, cat eyes are not gleaming or malicious. Ruby-gold eyes are begging for time that Killua knows Gon—inflexible, merciless, unyielding Gon—cannot give. Cat Eyes begs and begs and begs, breaks an arm, and begs some more to save a dying girl. Cat Eyes leaves itself defenseless and bare, pleading for time.

Cat Eyes gives Gon the power, and Killua knows that Gon has no idea what to do with it.

Killua knows that this is not what Gon expected. Gon expected a murderer, a killer, a monster—something Gon is able to fight.

Gon built a tower of glass to reach the skies, to aim for the heavens  _(“We’ll get Kite back!”),_  but that night, lightning strikes  _(“If you want, you can have my right arm. If you want, take both legs, too. Just please, let me save her.”)_  and down Gon falls from heaven. A blissful, ignorant heaven.

Gon hits the floor, slams into cold marble hard, and breaks the the floor with all the fire and force he has in a body built with pent-up rage and tears, tears, tears.  _(“To hell with that.”)_

This time, Gon shatters.  
 _  
(“Gon, wait. If you kill Pitou, you’ll never be able to get Kite back.”)_

(“It must be nice to be so calm, Killua. Since this doesn’t involve you.”)

_(Fallen tower, broken glass.)_

Killua shatters too.

**8.**

"One hour," Gon says, back tall, "I’m giving you one hour. That’s all I’m willing to wait."

Cat eyes nods tersely, not daring to speak. Killua can see the bob of its throat when it swallows. Nervous, nervous, nervous.

Gon takes one slow step forward. It echoes throughout the gray-marble hole-ridden room. Killua nearly flinches at the sound. Gon takes another, then another, and another, moving forward with terse, powerful steps until he’s barely a foot away from Pitou.

"One hour," he repeats, montone. Gon lowers himself down on the floor, one knee drawn up to his chest.

 _It must be cold,_ Killua thinks.  _He must be cold._

Maybe Gon has gone beyond the point of caring. Numb, hollow, nothing there. Like all the fire and passion Gon saved up has been carved out of his body by Pitou’s words and spilled into the crater Gon has made in the floor, flowing with anger and red-black rage.

"One hour."

Nothing else is said as Pitou nods once more, budging not even an inch from its crouched position near the bloodied girl.

It’s a tense situation, a  _war,_ and Killua no longer has any right to be standing in the middle of it. Unneeded, rejected. _  
_

Discarded. His heart hurts. It throbs in time with the steps he takes as he turns around and walks away from the fallen tower.

With a quiet breath, Killua takes the back door out.

**9.**

Somehow, Killua manages to pick up the broken shards he has made of himself and continue on—alone—through the dark halls. It’s so unbearably hard, emotions burning through his chest like a fire chipping away at his bones, but miraculously, he finds a way to function. Killua finds a way to survive even when his own shards are slowly being turned back into sand, grains made of clenched fists and irregular heartbeats and “ _since this doesn’t involve you.”_

Killua keeps the shards close to him even should his hands bleed. He uses the strength made for supporting the glass tower to support something else, to support something that needs it, and fights alongside his comrades when needed.

But his aimless wandering has to come to a stop at some point, and stop it does when he encounters glossy black hair and clear blue eyes.

"Killua," says Palm softly, says the ghost of a dead girl, "let me see Gon."

Killua stares and watches and thinks— _be rational, be_ calm, he thinks disgustedly—because this is what he is supposed to do. After a few minutes of exchanging small talk that doesn’t really matter, he knows this is not Palm. He feels the gut instinct and his mind scream and flutter against his skin like a trapped animal, and Killua reacts accordingly. “You’re not Palm,” he says. “You’re someone else.”

Killua ends up fighting someone he does not want to. He fights to try and prove to himself—to  _Gon_ —that he is strong enough to stay and to  _be involved_. But in the end, Killua has never been one to hurt the ones he cares for willingly on a good day.

This is not a good day—this is a day of red-black and bright blue and hope and tears and rage. And slowly, Killua’s shards, what remain of him, break down piece by piece into sand. It trickles through his fingers to the marble floor, fists pounding and cries tearing from his throat and he screams, “ _I can’t do anything!”_

With an aching throat and a throbbing heart, Killua realizes this is the truth. He has never been able to do anything, has never been able to support the glass tower, has never been strong enough to  _stay._

This is Killua’s mistake, and he knows this.

But Palm goes through change— _is change so simply acquired?_ — and says something else with soft-spoken words and gentle blue eyes. She looks at him with black hair falling down her back like waterfalls and hands tender like a sister’s and she says, “You are the one Gon needs most. You are the one most important to him.”

He doesn’t believe it, not at first. He is not the one Gon asked out to a date, he is not strong enough, he is not the one Gon loves—

But he has been by Gon’s side for such a long time, hasn’t he?

Killua has fought battles of dodgeballs and bombs and Cat Eyes with him, hasn’t he?

Killua has stayed by Gon’s side when everyone else left—wasn’t that  _something?_

Yet this time, Killua has not stayed. When “ _since you’re not involved”_  happened, Killua left. Killua left Gon alone with a monster with begging eyes and another monster inside of Gon himself.

This is the  _real_  mistake. It brings horror to his eyes and he reels back a step, but rationally,  _calmly,_ Killua knows that for once, this is a mistake that can be fixed.

**10.**

When Killua arrives at the clearing where Gon is supposed to be, there is a stranger.

There is a tall stranger with long black hair trailing the forest ground, with sad red-rage eyes, and with splatters of blue blood on his muscular body. The stranger stands over a beaten corpse, the monster who used to have begging eyes and now doesn’t even have eyes at all.

Moonlight shines on the stranger’s tears like faraway stars. Like a child clinging to their last hope, the stranger says quietly,  _brokenly,_  ”Killua…”

A chill runs down Killua’s back.

_This is not a stranger._

Killua stares longer at this heavily muscled, tall, red-eyed man. Killua remembers faintly a boy with bright amber eyes containing all the world’s hope and light. Killua remembers a short boy, a lithe boy who could jump miles to reach the skies.

Quietly, Killua whispers, “Gon?”

The moonlight tears fall, one, two, to the dirt. “Killua,” the stranger says once more. Shattered.

And once again, Killua is too late.

**11.**

The walk back to the palace is silent, but at times interrupted by the drops of blood hitting the ground and the brushing of long black hair dragging on the dirt.

In the distance, sounds are dead. There are no noises of battle far away—no screams, no explosions, nothing. Maybe it is a good thing that the war against monsters and humans alike is over, but all Killua can think about is that the word “end” means something else to him now.

"I’m sorry, Killua," whispers Gon, voice soft and frail, thin fingers wrapping around Killua’s shirt like a lifeline. "I’m so sorry."

Killua swallows and hefts Gon up higher on his back. “Shut up, idiot,” he says, vision blurring. It’s hard to breathe and barely, just barely, his shoulders begin to shake. “Shut up.”

Gon presses his face into Killua’s back. “Killua,” Gon breathes into the night air, words like mist, “don’t cry.”

Killua shakes his head— _careful, careful with the broken glass._ "Who’s crying, you idiot?"

A ghost of a laugh, shadows of Gon’s light, echoes hollowly in the wind.  _Fallen tower, broken glass._  ”I’m sorry, Killua,” Gon says once more, like feathers, words falling gentle.

Killua takes a trembling breath. “I know. You already said that, idiot.”

A low  _whoosh_ of a breath, but there’s no response.

Killua stops. “Gon? Are you awa—”

Gon’s arm slips from Killua’s neck.

Killua’s heartbeat begins to rattle in his chest like glass shards being broken over and over again. “Gon?” he asks louder, desperately. “Hey, Gon?”

Nothing.

Clear-glass Gon has always responded, but now, there’s not even a whisper.

Not even a breath.

_"Gon!"_

**12.**

_I fell in love,_ Killua thinks, staring into a window that shows what must be Gon’s deathbed.  _I fell in love,_   _but with only one part of a person._

Even from outside of the hospital room, Killua can still pick up the faint  _beep-beeps_ of the monitor and the mechanical breathing of the machines that keep what used to be the brightest light alive.

This is what Killua fell in love with. He fell in love with the determination, the hope, the light. He knows this is true,  _has_  been true for a very, very long time. And Killua knows that for that very, very long time, that was okay. It was okay to fall in love with only one part of Gon. It was okay to fall in love with the brightness, the light, the hand that dragged him from the darkness. It was okay, because the other part—red-black rage and moonlight tears and  _"since this doesn’t involve you"—_ was never needed.

Killua, from the very start, was doomed to let the tower fall into the rabbit hole. Instead this time, there was no way out.

Maybe Killua just didn’t see—but with another low  _whoosh_ of Gon’s mechanical breathing, he knows this is a lie. Killua  _ignored_ the shadows and the rage and the intense love that drove Gon into destroying himself. Maybe he was too accustomed to the darkness he was once engulfed in for so long, or maybe staring directly into the stars, the sun, has turned him blind and thrust him into the shadows forever.

Maybe Killua just didn’t want to revisit the very darkness Gon dragged him out of.

Either way, Killua knows he fell in love with the glass tower reaching for the heavens. Standing in front of it, he saw only the radiance, the grace, and as a result, he forgot the shadows glass tower cast.

 _But,_  Killua thinks, rising up from his seat to rebuild the broken tower,  _the shadows are beautiful, too._

**13.**

Gon is glass. Strong and invincible and able to mold himself into anything he wants when he melts himself down with all the fire he has, but also fragile and breakable and delicate when he decides on staying unchanged.

One day, clear-glass-Gon builds himself up into a tower to reach for the heavens. It ends up casting shadows on the ground, on the foundation that holds the tower steady, but Killua never notices the darkness when staring at the light. And besides, the shadows are beautiful too.

Eventually, Killua is swept up in the winds that whisper about change and he leaves Gon, the glass tower, to fall down, down, down and shatter into broken glass.

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes. Killua pays for every single one of them with everything he has and so does the fallen tower. But the difference is, the fallen tower pays for his mistakes with everything he  _is_  and makes himself into a stranger.

So Killua rebuilds the tower himself, burns his hands and thrusts them into the fire to make the shards whole once more. This time, the mistake costs nothing but himself.

The heavens, the glass tower and the ground that keeps it steady separates after that.

They part with words that they half mean and others that are too true.  _(“You’re number two, now.”) (“Well, you already apologized.)_ They walk away with jokes and laughter and dreams on their lips that they never got to say, that they never will say. They leave with regrets disguised with false happiness, but before they leave, Killua lets go of just one regret.

Killua asks, demands, begs selfishly,  _Remember my name, the one who holds you steady._

Killua decides that for him, the one who keeps change itself steady, change is not so simply acquired. It shouldn’t be so easy, and surprisingly, Killua is okay with that.

 _But Gon…_  Killua whispers in the humming winds that blow about change. He watches the green leaves disappear into the air, the same green that Gon has always been. Just like the leaves, Killua watches Gon’s back for one final time.

And singing, the winds say—

_Don’t forget the beauty of the glass tower when I’m gone._

_**end.** _

 


End file.
